


Little Bit of Spine you’ve Been Saving for His Mattress

by MrSandman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ableist Language, Awkward Conversations, Canon Compliant, Crack, Cute Ending, Detention, Enemies, Enemies to Friends, Face Punching, Fights, Fist Fights, Gen, Humor, Insults, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Negotiations, Pre-Slash, Punching, Quidditch, Rumors, Writing, awkward cuties in love, just a couple of instances, kind of, pretty much anyway, they just don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSandman/pseuds/MrSandman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a rumour spreads that Harry and Draco are a thing, both get into a fight, and end up in detention together…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bit of Spine you’ve Been Saving for His Mattress

**Author's Note:**

> Consistent with canon… ish. (The 'ish' being that I essentially ignored the existence of Voldemort, for the purpose of this fic.) Set in 4th year. Humour. Possibly very OOC at times, as this was my first Harry Potter fic (which I've only got around to uploading now), so forgive me. I believe this was proofread/beta-ed a very long time ago by Bowowza (who probably has no memory of this by now), but any and all mistakes since then are my own. The title is from Dance, Dance by Fall Out Boy, because I'm lazy and coming up with titles is hard, so I just let Pete Wentz do it for me.
> 
> Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I don't own any of these characters. The plot and only the plot is mine. Also I'm not making any money from this - only for fun folks!

"Shut up, Malfoy."

 

"Problem, Weasel? I thought pus-filled boils quite suited you, actually." Draco smirked, the image of the smug git he was, Ron thought.

 

"I'll give you pus-filled boils…" Ron scrambled to his feet and lunged at Draco, pus-filled boils aside. Harry and Hermione struggled to restrain him, especially considering the aforementioned boils, which covered every inch of exposed skin on Ron's body.  _He's lucky it wasn't more, considering we're dealing with Malfoy,_ Harry thought to himself. He had had just about as much of the boy's smarmy manner as he was willing to take for one day.

 

"Come on Malfoy, don't you have some first years to hex? The 'pus-filled boils' joke is getting a bit old now, don't you think?"

 

"Keep pushing,  _Potter,_ and you might just end up the same way as Weasel here," Draco spat, sniffing contemptuously at Ron, whose fists clenched involuntarily. 

 

"Leave him Harry, Ron, he's not worth it," Hermione said, glancing longingly up the corridor towards Care of Magical Creatures, and her books.

 

"You stay out of this, Mudblood," Draco snarled, his lip curling in disgust. "Nobody asked your opinion."

 

"On second thoughts," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "punch his smug face in."

 

"Not today, Hermione," Harry sighed. "Nice try Malfoy. You won't be getting us in detention this time." Draco scowled, and swanned off down the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle hurrying in his wake. The others sighed, and trailed behind him slowly. 

 

***

 

The next morning, Harry strolled down the corridor towards breakfast, feeling refreshed and a lot calmer after getting a decent night's sleep. 

 

Something seemed different today, though. People always stared at Harry; that he was used to. But today, it seemed there were more eyes on him than usual. 

 

As he caught up with Dean and Seamus, the boys grinned at Harry widely.

 

"How's Draco, eh Harry?" Dean leant in closer, apparently eager to hear Harry's answer.

 

"Er, what?" How would he know how Draco was?

 

"Ah, not one to kiss and tell? Go on, just tell us if it's true, at least. We promise we won't tell anyone." Seamus winked conspiratorially. 

 

"Tell you if what's true?" Harry was thoroughly confused.

 

"Playing it like that are we? You know what we're talking about," Dean said, nudging Harry.

 

"No, I really don't know what you're talking about," Harry exclaimed, earning a few surprised expressions from those around him.

 

"Y'know, you and Draco," Dean whispered, glancing around furtively.

 

"Me and Draco, what?"

 

"Just tell us if you two are…  _together_ ," Seamus said. Harry nearly coughed up a lung.

 

_"Me_? And  _Draco_? Of course not," Harry said in horror, his mind completely blank. Where on earth could this rumour have come from? He'd thought it obvious enough that he despised Draco, and Draco despised him.

 

"Right. Of course. We believe you, thousands wouldn't," Dean said, still grinning. 

 

"We're really not," Harry insisted, trying to reinforce his denial. 

 

"Alright Harry, we believe you," Seamus said, dragging a laughing Dean off to the side. 

 

_Great_ , Harry thought.  _As if I need more attention on me._

 

***

 

The rumours continued to spread throughout the day. Some variations that Harry overheard were so obviously not true, and so disgusting to think about ("I heard that they 'did the Deed' in the prefects' bathroom!" "Oh no, I heard that it was in the Quidditch changing rooms, and Madam Hooch walked in on them!") that Harry couldn't ignore them any more, and made sure to fiercely deny them.

 

It was starting to drive Harry insane. By the time double Divination had finished, Harry was seriously considering going straight to the Gryffindor common room, up to the boys' dormitory, and going to sleep for the rest of the day. Ron patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

 

"Don't worry mate. I believe you, and so does Hermione. Just ignore everyone else."

 

"Thanks Ron," Harry muttered, sighing. If these rumours stuck around, it was going to be a long year.

 

***

 

Harry was heading back to the changing rooms after a late Quidditch practice, his Firebolt slung over his shoulder. He would meet Hermione and Ron when he was changed, and then they would hurry back to the warm common room. He hoped they'd enjoyed watching the team play - he'd been practising the Wronski Feint for weeks, even sacrificing a few hours' sleep to practise before breakfast each morning. 

 

Harry had been so deep in thought, mostly about the stupid rumours going around, that he didn't notice somebody else hurrying in the opposite direction, and he suddenly collided with another body. 

 

"Sorry," he said hurriedly, as he picked himself up and grabbed the Firebolt from the ground beside them. The scowl he was met with was so loaded with venom that it could have killed a Hippogriff on sight. Unfortunately, it seemed that Harry had collided with Draco. He felt his heart sink as he stared down at the scowling boy, knowing a confrontation was imminent, and prepared several snarky comments to hurl Draco's way.

 

"Sorry Malfoy. I hope you haven't got toomuch dirt on you. That  _would_ be a shame, wouldn't it?"

 

"It certainly would,  _Potter_ ," Draco said, getting to his feet gracefully. "I can't just walk around with messy hair and mud all over me, unlike  _you_ ," he sneered. 

 

"Yeah, well it's certainly earned me more friends than you," Harry replied. 

 

"Of course it has," Draco scoffed. "Now get out of my way, Potter. I have  _friends_ to get back to." Without giving Harry the chance to move, Draco pushed past him and began moving in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, as he had been before his little stand-off with Harry. 

 

"And your friends hang out on the Quidditch pitch, do they? I shouldn't be surprised - they  _are_  all toads and worms, aren't they?" Harry followed Draco, refusing to let him get the last word. "Coming to spy on our practice, were you? You're too late - we finished early because Angelina took a bludger to the head. Sorry to disappoint you."

 

Actually,  _Potter_ , I'm meeting somebody."

 

"Oh, has Pansy finally plucked up the courage to ask you out, then?"

 

"Shut up Potter. As if I'd ever go out with  _Pansy_. No, I have  _far_ more important people to meet."

 

"Well I won't keep you, then. I have  _actual_ people to go and meet."

 

 "What, like Weasel, Weasel Junior and the Mudblood?" Draco's lip curled, and he smirked at Harry before beginning to turn away. 

 

However, Harry's anger levels had been rising sharply throughout his encounter with Draco, and they were soaring sky high now after that last comment. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist stepping forcefully towards Draco and socking him in the face. It was worth it for the look of surprise on Draco's face, and the slightly muffled outcry as he stifled the blood flowing steadily from his now-less-than-perfect nose. 

 

"You punchedme." Draco still wasn't over the surprise, it seemed, or else Harry would have been on his back on the ground in a second, the victim of more than a few nasty hexes.

 

"Yes, well done," Harry said dryly. 

 

"But… you  _punched_ me."

 

"How many times do I need to punch you before it sinks in, Malfoy?" Draco Malfoy, surprised. Harry revelled in the triumph as if it were a vat full of warm butterbeer.

 

"I… You… I-"

 

"Pull yourself together!"  _He's such a wimp,_ Harry thought to himself.

 

However, it seemed that Draco was less of a wimp than he made out, as Harry felt his face whip round with the force of Malfoy's return punch, his neck clicking painfully. Harry rubbed his cheekbone, and sighed. He knew he'd been asking for it. 

 

"How'd you like that,  _Potter_?" Draco was smiling smugly, blood still dribbling out of his right nostril and forming a crimson trail down over his lips and chin.

 

"Well, actually Malfoy, I didn't really. Funny that." Harry placed his feet at shoulder width apart, steadying himself for the fight that was now overdue. He brought his fists up.

 

"Oh, put your fists down Potter. Do you really think I would waste my time scrabbling in the mud with someone like  _you_? Don't make me laugh."

 

"Oh, so I guess you don't want to hear my comedy routine, then? Shame - it's getting pretty good now, what with all the jokes about  _you_ I've added in. But I suppose you've got to get back to those _friends_ you're meeting," he continued as Draco attempted to butt in. Harry turned and continued walking to the changing rooms, eager to be out of his sweaty practice gear, which was clinging to his back unpleasantly. 

 

"Get back here Potter," Draco hissed, running after Harry and yanking him down to the ground by the back of his sticky shirt. Harry's brows knitted together in a scowl. Of  _course_ Draco would want a fight. What had he been expecting, a quiet surrender and a tea-party?

 

Draco's foot came down in the direction of Harry's head, and he rolled out of the way just in time. Hooking an arm around the back of Draco's knees, Harry brought the other boy crashing to the ground beside him, and got a forceful punch to the jaw in return. 

 

Draco grabbed Harry's shoulders and swung himself on top of the boy, trying to force Harry's face into the mud. 

 

Harry, however, was better at fighting than he looked. He spat in Draco's face, making the blond recoil in disgust, before pushing against Draco's chest and forcing him to the ground.

 

The boys wrestled violently for a minute, before Harry heard Hermione's shrill tone and Ron's approving one drifting towards them. A second later, he felt himself being lifted from the ground by Ron and Hermione and held back from Draco, though he wasn't planning on offering any resistance. Ron looked at Harry admiringly, then glanced at Draco's now-muddy and bloody form. 

 

Draco's goons were dragging him away, still yelling about how he would get even with Harry eventually.

 

"What on earth were you  _thinking_ , Harry? Everyone was watching, including Professor McGonagall! You were both writhing on the ground! It's no wonder those rumours are going around, to be honest! I can only hope that McGonagall doesn't-"

 

"Potter! Malfoy! Both of you get back here immediately!" Professor McGonagall's furious voice cut through the air.

 

Hermione let go of Harry, so he could walk back to the Transfiguration professor. "Now he'll get detention."

 

"What did you think you were doing?" Professor McGonagall glared at the two boys. "I will  _not_ tolerate fighting. And on the Quidditch pitch too! I'm giving both of you detention,  _together_ , tomorrow evening, in my classroom. And ten points will be taken from  _both_ your houses!" With that, she walked off the pitch towards the castle, leaving two fuming students in her wake.

 

"Great," Harry muttered. He wandered back over to Ron and Hermione to tell them, heart sinking at the thought of having to spend an hour or so alone with Draco.

 

***

 

Harry arrived at the door of Professor McGonagall's classroom and glanced in. Seeing the professor's stern face looking back at him, he hurried in, and took a seat near the back and away from her hawk-eyed gaze. 

 

Draco hadn't arrived yet, but of course he wouldn't have. He wouldn't dare be on time for a detention, not with a reputation like his to be maintained.

 

But Harry was unpleasantly surprised when he heard the click of shoes moving down the corridor towards the classroom, and Draco swaggered in. He took one look at Harry, and sat off to the side away from him, a couple of rows in front. 

 

"Well, now you're both here," McGonagall said briskly, "you are going to be writing lines for the next hour. You will write "I must not fight with other students". Now, both of you get on with it."

 

Harry fiddled around in his bag for his quill and ink, not looking forward to the next hour at all. He had plenty of homework to be getting on with, and really didn't need to be stuck in a stuffy classroom with Draco of all people, when he could be getting started on the Potions essay that was due in the next day.

 

Both boys had been sitting for around twenty minutes, writing out their lines, when McGonagall suddenly sighed loudly.

 

"I have to go and attend to something. Both of you, stay here and continue writing your lines. Don't leave this room. Believe you me, I will know if you do." With that, she stalked out of the room, adjusting her glasses.

 

As soon as McGonagall had moved out of earshot, Harry sighed loudly and sat back, letting his quill fall to the table with a quiet thud.

 

"Writing lines too much work for you, Potter? I'd have thought you were used to harder manual labour than that, considering the way you were brought up."

 

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry really wasn't in the mood to deal with him being a git right now.

 

"I would, but so few people will talk to you that you should be glad of the idle conversation." Draco sniggered, and Harry turned to face the boy.

 

"Why d'you do that?"

 

"Do what?" Now Harry had Draco confused.

 

"Take the mickey, kick people when they're down, y'know. Is it fun for you?" Harry was genuinely curious. Maybe knowing  _why_  Draco was such a git would help him stave off the desire to punch the boy every time Harry laid eyes on him. 

 

Draco actually seemed to ponder the question for a minute. "I don't… I don't know," he finally said. "Having power over people, knowing I'm better than them - I suppose it's… empowering."

 

Surprised to have actually got a serious answer from the boy, Harry didn't let the topic slide.

 

"So… why me? How are you 'better' than me, then?"

 

Draco sighed. "I'm not… Look, Potter, I don’t… It's not really anything personal. I just despise Weasel and his family, and that Mudblood friend of yours is just  _awful_."

 

"Er, d'you mind? Those are my friends you're talking about, or hadn't you noticed?"

 

"I - sorry," Draco muttered. 

 

"Am I hearing things? Did the high and mighty Draco Malfoy just apologise? It can't be."

 

"Don't push it, Potter, or I may just take it back," Draco snarled, but without any real venom. 

 

"See, there you go again, putting up your shield. You could just try being yourself, not your father, y'know." Harry toed the ground, scuffing his shoes. He knew he'd said too much, and Draco would snap at him, and then things would go back to how they used to be.

 

"Maybe you're right." Harry's head snapped up and he stared at Draco, mouth hanging open a little. Draco chuckled slightly; completely out of character for him, Harry thought. "Close your mouth, Potter, you'll catch flies," Draco said. 

 

"Er - it's Harry. Call me Harry," he mumbled, face a little pink. He tried and failed to make eye contact, his face becoming an even more luminous shade of dusty rose.

 

"Well, then… Call me Draco," Draco said quickly, stumbling a little over the words. The boy clearly wasn't used to being so informal with people.

 

"O-okay," Harry said, his voice a little higher than normal. He coughed slightly.

 

There was a slightly awkward pause, in which Harry glanced up, caught Draco's eye and glanced away again.

 

"You could at least look at me when you speak to me." Harry saw Draco smile a little out of the corner of his eye.

 

"Sorry." Harry made eye contact with Draco, and found it strangely hard to look away once he had done so. 

 

"So, er…" he wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. "Listen. As we don't, er, actually dislike each other, could you maybe… lay off a little? If I promise not to start anything too, I mean."

 

Draco shifted in his chair. "Yes, I - I suppose I could. But don't expect any special favours, Pott- I mean, Harry."

 

"I won't." Both boys then glanced down at their half finished lines.

 

"Well, at least I'll have company if McGonagall gives us a repeat detention," Harry said, smiling a little at Draco. Draco smiled back at Harry, and although it was fleeting, it gave Harry hope that maybe, just maybe, Draco would actually leave him be, at least for a few days.

 

The sound of footsteps snapped Harry out of his reverie. He quickly picked up his quill and began writing again, as McGonagall entered the room. 

 

"I think it's been an hour now, Potter, Malfoy," McGonagall said, sitting back down at her desk. "You may both go, but don't let me catch you two fighting again."

 

"But Professor-" Harry was cut off by a sigh from Draco.

 

"Don't question, just leave," he said, softening his harsh words with a brief smile.

 

Harry stood two seconds more, puzzling over why McGonagall had let them go so early, before shoving his quill and ink into his bag and sweeping it off the floor.

 

Suspecting that McGonagall may have engineered her leaving the classroom, Harry glanced at Draco for confirmation. The other boy's gaze moved to the Professor, before returning to Harry. He nodded almost imperceptibly, a frown crossing his features for a moment, before continuing to pack up his things.

 

Strangely, as Harry turned towards McGonagall's desk, he could've sworn he saw her wink.

 

Brushing aside his Professor’s strange behaviour, and pleased that he would finally have a bit of relief from Draco's constant taunting, Harry hurried to the door, Draco overtaking him in his haste to be out of the classroom.

 

And if Harry felt a little spark, when Draco's hand brushed against his own as they both tried to get through the doorway first, then Harry didn't really mind all that much. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was that. It's unlikely, but maybe I'll write more in this 'verse, maybe I won't. You'll just have to wait and see, I guess.
> 
> If you guys want to send me prompts/requests/headcanons (and want to receive virtual cookies and eternal friendship in return), come hit me up at kingisdead.tumblr.com :)
> 
> (((Also comments, kudos, constructive criticism etc. are all very much appreciated.)))


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